


water's sweet but blood is thicker

by theystayalive



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Drama, Gen, Minor Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge, Post-Season/Series 01, cannot stress enough this is not a ship fic for sarah/jj, they find out an absolutely world shattering secret about themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theystayalive/pseuds/theystayalive
Summary: “Hey,” a hand takes hold of his forearm, “Where are you going? We have to talk about this-”The world snaps back into focus and he rips his arm away from her grasp. “Talk about what, Sarah? How you’ve been fucking lying to me this whole time?”--------After Nassau, John B and Sarah decide to lay low at her mother's place in Charleston, and bring the Pogues with them. But, old secrets and old wounds surface to change both JJ and Sarah's worlds as they know it.
Relationships: JJ & John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron & JJ, Sarah Cameron & JJ & Kiara & Pope & John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron/John B. Routledge
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	water's sweet but blood is thicker

The sound of John B’s laughter ringing out through the Twinkie makes JJ feel like his chest is going to burst. Hearing that sound again, after months, is only made better by the sight of Sarah sitting with her legs over Kiara’s lap in the back as she continues to rag on John B’s many mishaps during their time away. 

Sarah and John B have met them on the Charleston pier as instructed, and after all the hugging and the tears and the “how fucking dare you let us believe you were dead”s and the “I really missed you”s were out of the way, John B’s first priority seems to be a thorough check over of the Twinkie. 

JJ can’t help but smile even as John B lectures him about not getting the tires rotated and the fact that somehow it smells even more like weed than when he had left it behind. 

“So there’s pretty much no way in hell we can head back to Kildare,” Sarah says once she’s finally managed to extract herself from Kiara’s long winded rant about the audacity of the two of them not getting in contact sooner. “At least not yet.”

“What are we in Charleston for, then?” Pope asks from next to her.

“A detour.” Her overly dramatic pause blatantly indicates her desire for someone to ask what she means by this. When no one indulges her she continues, “I... I got in contact with my mom.”

This immediately catches Kiara's attention as she looks up, fixing Sarah with a weary look that indicates to JJ this in particular is a surprising development. But she keeps her mouth shut and lets her friend continue. 

“She actually lives in Charleston. At least that’s where all my birthday money envelopes were addressed from.” The joke comes out flippantly enough, but he notes that her smile does not quite reach her eyes. “She’s a curator at an art gallery in the historic downtown. She said we could stay for a while while we uh… figure out what to do next.”

Kiara nods slowly. “Does she know the reason we need to lie low at all is because you two are presumed-dead-slash-the-most-wanted-fugitives-on-Kildare-island?”

JJ catches Sarah make uneasy contact with John B in the rear view mirror. “Let’s just keep that under wraps for now. We need to get there first before we figure out what exactly she needs to know and maybe what she doesn’t.”

Which is where they're heading now. The windows down, John B behind the wheel of his beloved van, where he belongs. Everything in its right place once again, if only for the time being. 

The townhouse sits on a quiet backstreet, only a walking distance from the downtown. The whitewashed brick and the Teslas parked in front of the identical neighboring homes scream wealth, in a way not dissimilar from Tanneyhill and the rest of the Figure Eight mansions back home. 

John B leans over to JJ. “I can smell the rich from here,” he says, twisting his nose.

JJ smirks in response. “This poor lady isn’t going to know what hit her.”

Sarah’s nerves and apprehension are evident as she jumps to take charge. “John B, you can park the Twinkie in the visitors lot. Just on the back there?” she says, pointing behind the row of buildings. “The rest of us can go in and meet her, she’s expecting us.”

“I’ll go with John B,” JJ says. He shrugs, catching his best friend’s eye, the knowing look confirming his suspicions. This will be prime time for the two of them to continue their shit-talking of the undeniable  _ Kook-ishnes _ of this neighborhood out of Sarah’s earshot. 

Sarah simply nods, opening the door for Pope and Kie to jump out, then following after and directing them to the stone steps of number 24.

John B and JJ find the lot with ease, parking and starting their walk down the cobblestone sidewalk side by side. JJ can’t get the wide grin off his face. It feels almost surreal to have John B here, in the flesh, standing next to him. Laughing his friendly laugh and tripping over his own words as he relays the story of the friendly fisherman that picked them up in the middle of the ocean or as he rambles about their brief but eventful time in the Bahamas.

He’s missed John B. So, so much. For the past few months, all JJ has wished for was to have his best friend back – and now here he is, alive and well, sunkissed and freckled, scrunching his face excitedly as he tries to fit a full summer worth of stories into one conversation. 

“And the _waves_ , JJ. You should have seen the waves out there. It killed me that I didn’t have a board to go surf them with. I kept wishing you were --” John B trails off as he glances over at him, stopping in front of the white front door. “You would have absolutely shredded them.”

JJ smiles back, reaching out to take the door knob. “When this is all over, we’ll go back and I will gladly embarrass your ass on some Bahamian swells, man.”

They enter the house to find themselves in a plush foyer resembling a museum more so than a home. Everything completely spotless, expensive looking knick knacks strewn over just about every surface, practically demanding JJ to pick them up and put them in his pocket.

The indistinguishable hum of voices leads them past a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. When JJ rounds the corner to the kitchen, ready to deliver some snide comment about how he expects emotional compensation for having to pull their piece of shit van between two Mercedes on top of parking meter fees, the ground gives way beneath him. 

Four figures are gathered around the kitchen table. As Kiara turns around and waves enthusiastically, Pope says something about them getting lost 10 feet down the street. Sarah is leaning against the head of the table, arms folded as she turns to look at JJ with an easy smile. But, JJ’s attention is laser-focused on the woman sitting in a seat next to Sarah, golden hair swept up into a bun behind her head. Familiar blue eyes look back at him with a look of equal parts shock and confusion. 

JJ doesn’t move another step. His feet feel like they’ve been glued to the floor. He vaguely hears John B suck in a sharp breath next to him. Clearly, he has recognized her as well. 

Sarah stands up the same time the woman does, holding out her hand to gesture to her. “John B, JJ, this is Limbry, my --”

“Mom?” it comes out as a strangled whisper, his voice doesn’t quite sound like his own. For a moment the kitchen stills as everyone in the room whip their head towards him. The moment it settles in feels like a shock. Pope’s jaw hangs open. He hears Kiara’s whispered  _ what? _ before he hand moves to cover her mouth.

Sarah stumbles back away from Limbry like she’s been shoved, her eyes moving wildly between JJ and her-  _ their _ mother.

Limbry is staring wide-eyed at him, as frozen in place as he feels. She clears her throat nervously and mutters, “Jesse?”

JJ doesn’t know what to say, what to do. The eyes of everyone in the room are on him and he feels like he’s going to fucking throw up in front of them all. 

His mother is standing not six feet from him. And she’s speaking to him. 

He can't be with any of them right now, can't be with anyone at all. He needs to get his head to stop buzzing, his roaming thoughts to quiet. He needs to  _ get out. _

Pushing past John B and ignoring as he calls after him, he stumbles back down the hallway.

He shoves through the front door and all but throws himself down the steps onto the sidewalk. Every jolt of his foot hitting the ground feels too hard, every sound in his ears is deafening. The world tilts at an alarming angle, too many thoughts demanding to be heard at once, making it hard to think, hard to _ breathe _ . He can’t breathe. 

He only distantly hears the front door open again behind him through the rushing in his ears.

“JJ?” Sarah’s voice comes from somewhere close by.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, _ he can’t breathe. _

“I- I had no idea. How is this – JJ, can you hear me?”

He has to leave. He has to get away. His vision starts to clear with every step he starts to take away from the townhouse and its occupants. He has to get to the Twinkie and leave. Just for a little bit. Just long enough to figure out how he’s supposed to walk back into the living room while  _ she _ is there.

“Hey,” a hand takes hold of his forearm, “Where are you going? We have to talk about this-”

The world snaps back into focus and he rips his arm away from her grasp. “Talk about  _ what _ , Sarah? How you’ve been fucking _ lying _ to me this whole time?”

Sarah stops dead in her tracks, her eyes round and her mouth hanging slightly open “What? No, JJ I- I didn’t- how was I supposed to- I thought your mom was  _ dead! _ ”

“I wish she was,” he spits through gritted teeth. 

“Don’t talk about her that way,” she snaps back at him.

JJ burns her with a glare. “I’m allowed to talk about her however the hell I want. She fucking  _ left _ me!”

“She left _both of_ _us_ , JJ-”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ , holy shit, I’m so sorry.” JJ barks out a sarcastic laugh, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. “How did you  _ ever  _ survive without her in your multi million dollar Kook castle with your boats and your daddy’s credit card and the rest of your loving family?”

“Fuck off, that’s so unfair.”

JJ scoffs. “I know you’re not about to lecture me about what’s unfair in life.” 

“My loving family? My _loving family_?” her voice rises, something hysterical and frantic weaving into her tone. “You mean my psychopathic father that murdered Big John in cold blood? The one that turned an innocent teenage boy into a fugitive because he found out? Or Rafe-” the name dies on her lips, her hands fall to her side loosely, sick realization dawning on both of their faces.

_ Rafe. _

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, his stomach turning dangerously with a sudden wave of nausea.

Sarah quickly regains her composure, trying her best to look only mildly bothered by this new revelation. “Yeah, I guess… I guess we’re all siblings, then. Half siblings, whatever.”

JJ brings a hand up to cover his face. “This can’t be fucking happening right now.” A humorless chuckle leaves his lips, and he waves dismissively at Sarah. “You know what, here I was, thinking I had already lucked out in the family department. But no, it keeps getting better. Turns out I’m related to the poster children of all Kooks, I-”

Sarah groans in frustration and rolls her eyes. “I thought we dropped the whole Kooks versus Pogues thing a long time ago.”

“No,” JJ looks back at her in utter disbelief. “ _ You  _ wanted to drop  _ the whole Kook versus Pogues thing _ . Like we can just forgive and forget all the shit you and the rest of Figure Eight put us through for years. Hell, you didn’t seem all that concerned about your own piece of shit of a brother when he was harassing Kiara. Or sicking his minions on any of us if we so much as looked sideways at him at the Boneyard.”

“I didn’t know you, then-”

“Oh, right. That makes it  _ so _ much better. You Kooks are all the same, you don’t give a shit as long as it’s happening to someone else.”

“Don’t try and take the moral high ground with me when you run around with a gun stealing money from drug dealers!”

JJ purses his lips as he narrows his eyes at her

“You know what, my bad,” he seethes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand when you’ve had everything in your life handed to you on a pretty silver platter.”

Anger flashes across her face. Her arms drop to fists at her side. “Don’t act like you know me, JJ. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I sure as hell know that we are not the same, Princess,” he shouts, pointing a finger angrily back at her. Sarah winces visibly and JJ feels something cold drop to the pit of his stomach. He swallows against it, turning on his heel to resume his trek back to the Twinkie.

“Fine, JJ, just walk away like you always do,” she calls after him. “Why face it when you can run away from it instead, right?”

The jab hits its intended mark. Something inside of him snaps, and he’s rounding on her before he can stop himself. 

“You would know all about running, wouldn’t you? Things get scary with Daddy dearest for  _ one day _ and you disappear off the face of the Earth for months!”

The air crackles dangerously between them in the silence, eyes sharp, words being made to slice even deeper.

“Things get tough and you fuck off.” JJ’s voice is quiet and cutting as he twists his final knife. “Must be in the genes, right?”

He definitely doesn’t see her face fall as he turns his back to her for the last time. Definitely doesn’t notice the tears in the corner of her eyes she’s too stunned to reach up and wipe away. He runs the few steps left to the Twinkie and slams the door behind himself, hands shaking as he turns on the ignition and drives off, leaving Sarah still standing in the road. Watching him run away.

* * *

JJ has always been one to die on hills. He is not a man of half assery. Sometimes, he disagrees just for the fuck of it, like the one time Pope actually stormed away angry after an argument where JJ insisted Samwise Gamgee was the worst character in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. JJ had, in fact, never seen the Lord of the Rings trilogy. 

While that particular instance was more for the fun of seeing Pope’s forehead vein make an appearance, there are a few hills he will absolutely, under all circumstances, fight to the bitter, cold end on: Billy Joel is the best musician of all time, there is no circumstance that warrants you trusting the cops, the moon landing was a government con, and all wine tastes the same. 

This last stance is only being confirmed by the 30-year-old bottle of wine he swiped from Limbry’s small collection when he finally snuck back into the townhome well after everyone went to sleep. The one he’s drinking out of right now as he sits on her front steps. 

In truth, he could have grabbed any of the other bottles or even chosen from the assortment of expensive looking liquors on the cart next to the bar. But, this one had been off of the rack, displayed with the label facing out next to a carefully arranged vase of fake flowers. It looked important, like maybe it would annoy her the most if he took it. Therefore the obvious choice.

He is about a third of the way though it when light spills from the open front door over him and the front steps. He doesn’t look up when the shadow of a person throws itself on the street in front of him and then grows smaller as it approaches. 

Sarah drops down next to him, pulling her bare feet up underneath her to sit cross legged. She glances down at the bottle he is currently gripping by the neck.

“Is that hers?”

JJ takes a suspiciously exaggerated drink, not looking over. “And what if it is? Are you going to tell  _ Mom _ ?” he says, spitting out the last word with a little extra venom.

“No.” She holds out her hand expectantly, surprising him. “Not if you don’t.”

He’s caught off guard by this, blinking down at her open hand for a moment before he nods and passes the bottle to her, waiting for her to take a sip and give it back to him. He brings it to his lips once more, takes a long gulp as he stares back out over the empty street. 

Sarah puts her hands behind her and leans back to look up at the faint stars above them. Time passes slowly in the screaming silence, wordlessly passing the bottle between them a few more times until it’s almost empty. JJ is just about to figure out how he can ask her to fuck off back inside in the most polite way possible when she finally speaks again.

“Ward told me she didn’t want to see us.”

She takes his lack of answer as an invitation to continue, gaze still trained up into the night sky. “I was a little older when I realized that all the other kids had moms and I didn’t. So when I started asking questions, he sat me and Rafe down and explained to us that our mom was gone and didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”

She sends him a sheepish, side eyed look. Bites her bottom lip nervously between her teeth. “Your birthday’s in July, right? She left when I was just a baby, so… I think we’re eleven months apart.” 

“Right,” he says, an uneasy feeling congealing in his gut.

Sarah frowns in thought. Returns her gaze to the stone steps below them. “I always pictured her somewhere really far away, you know? Somewhere out of reach. But, I guess the whole time she was just… on the other side of the island.”

He turns to look at her for the first time since she sat down next to him. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail and she has a giant black Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on that he suspiciously recognizes from John B’s closet. Something about the way she’s sitting, her legs pulled up to her chest, her hands fidgeting with her pink pajama pants and a look of uncertainty painted across her features makes her look… young. Small. Lost. Maybe almost as lost as he feels right about now. Before he can stop himself, he’s speaking.

“I was at John B’s. When she left. She dropped me off on a Thursday to spend the night because that Friday was some teacher work day we had off or some shit.” Now that the words are coming out, they don’t seem to want to stop. “She was supposed to pick me up the next day around lunch, but 8 p.m. rolled around and she just… she never came. And it’s not like my dad knew or cared where the hell I was so…” JJ gives a poorly executed, noncommittal shrug. “Big John let me stay until Sunday night before he finally called to ask what was up. But I think he kind of knew. He just kept me for as long as possible because he didn’t want to send me back to find out for myself.”

Sarah shakes her head at the sky, a dry laugh leaving her lips. “Yikes.” 

JJ takes another swig in agreement. Neither of them speaks for a long time. The sounds of downtown Charleston hum in their ears and the alcohol in their blood begins to soften their heads. Somehow, the quiet between them does not seem as loaded as it should be. 

“I don’t know why I defended her like that, before,” Sarah finally says. She shifts uncomfortably in her position, stretching her legs out in front of her on the steps. 

Words escape him as he grapples for what to say. All he can offer is an awkward  _ “beats me” _ tilt of his head in response. 

Sarah’s hand reaches towards her fraying pant leg and begins to wind the treads around her fingers. “When I told John B we should lay low here for a bit while we tried to figure what to do back in Kildare, it really was the only option I could think of, but… I think it was also because I missed her. Or I thought I did, you know?.”

He does know. More than she can probably gather from his blank expression and fidgeting hands. “Yeah, that’s… understandable.” Fuck. He really is so bad at this. 

Her fingers move from her pants to tracing the stone beneath them. “I thought I’d be happy to see her.”

For some sick, twisted reason, her words hit a little too close to home. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t thought for years about what he would finally say to his mother if he ever saw her again. There had been so many different scenarios. In some of them he’d yell at her. She would cry, or he would. Sometimes he imagined uttering a single, calmly spoken sentence to let her know just how fine he was without her. In spite of his best efforts, more than one of these scenes ultimately ended in tearful reunions and quiet forgiveness. 

He clears his throat, averts his gaze. “What changed?”

Sarah lets out a long breath through her nose. “She just… she isn’t the woman I had in my head.” Her eyebrows crease as she continues to stare intently at the patterns her fingers are following. “I guess I spent so many years without her and I just knew so little about who she was. I think I just sort of filled in the gaps on my own. She’s… not the mom I had convinced myself I knew. I don't know her at all, actually.”

He doesn’t know what to say anymore. His stomach is starting to feel a little bit like it’s trying to crawl up his throat. So he reaches once more for the bottle at their feet, takes another swig of the thick red wine.

It’s her turn to look at him now, hesitation creasing the corners of her lips. “What was she like?” she whispers, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear.

Slowly, he lowers the bottle from his lips and puts it back on the step below their feet. He takes a deep breath, in and out, and wishes intensely he could light up a joint for this. His mind reaches for what to say next, unsure if he should give Sarah what he thinks she wants to hear or the truth. He settled on somewhere in between.

“I don’t remember her too much,” he says. “She was… she could be fun. And nice. I think she worked a lot, though, she wasn’t around much. And even when she was she wasn't really, I don't know.” He vaguely waves his hand in front of his face. “ _ There _ .”

She focuses her eyes back to the sky even more intently before, looking anywhere but him, or the house, or the street it sits on. Maybe trying to will away the tears she doesn’t think he’s already seen forming. “I don’t think she ever really wanted Kildare for herself, you know?” she offers, slowly. “But, I just kind of thought maybe she had at least wanted-”

The end of her sentence breaks and she turns her head away. JJ’s throat tightens a little when he sees the telltale quivering of shoulders that comes from the unwilling release of tears. 

He reaches for the bottle on instinct, only to find it practically empty. He still stubbornly lifts it to his lips, draining the last few drops left at the bottom anyways.

Coughing and pounding his chest once, he grimaces dramatically. “Yeah, Cameron, I get it. This wine is really fucking bad.”

JJ is no stranger to deflecting. He makes a show of studying the label intently as Sarah nods rapidly, still facing resolutely away from him.

“I thought  _ Reserve _ meant it’s supposed to taste better,” he says, feigning interest. He lifts the wine bottle closer to his face, making sure to give Sarah enough time to wipe her eyes and take a shaky breath. 

“Where’s a Whiteclaw when you need one?” she jokes, unconvincingly.

JJ grunts thoughtfully. “Seriously. But I did enjoy the top notes of-” he takes an exaggerated sniff from the top, “grapes and… peroxide.”

Sarah gives a sniffly laugh. “It does have a nice alcoholic bouquet.”

“Ah, yes,” he adds simply. “My favorite.”

He clears his throat and, finally satisfied that she is composed, stands and wipes the seat of his pants of any remaining dirt. 

“We should probably go back inside before Limbry comes looking,” he says. “We smell like a burnt-out rich white lady, and I can’t have her thinking we are even bigger disappointments than she originally thought.”

Sarah pretends to consider this. “We _are_ disappointments," she concludes. 

JJ tuts and shakes his head mournfully, “Imagine… the shame of having two of your children turn out to be Pogues.”

A grin splits open Sarah’s face and a small weight lifts off JJ’s shoulders. For once, he knows he’s said the right thing. She clutches her heart and releases a horrified gasp, “Bring me my smelling salts, I can scarcely bare the thought!”

As quickly as it came, the lopsided smile slides back off her face, the light behind her eyes abruptly dimming once more. She looks back down to her lap.

“I’m sorry she did this to you.”

JJ turns down to look at her. For a second, something inside of him jolts when he meets her eyes and realizes how familiar they are to him. He recognizes the look of exhaustion, the weight, the way something in them almost seems too old for her. It’s the same look he’s seen in the mirror countless times as he carefully patched himself back up again, tasting blood and mulling over new excuses for new bruises. It’s the look that he knows his friends have no idea what to really do with when they see it on him, no matter how much they wish they did. 

He rubs his hand over his face and nods slowly, stretching his open hand down to her. “I’m sorry she did it to  _ us _ .” 

In the haze of alcohol, for a split second, Sarah thinks he’s asking her to pass him the wine. It takes her a moment to process that the bottle is already hanging from JJ’s other hand and that this one is intended for her.

She takes it, allowing JJ to pull her to her feet. When she’s steadied, he rears back with the bottle, ready to throw it into the night. Sarah’s arm shoots out to catch his wrist before he can fling it into oblivion.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused. “It seemed – I don’t know – symbolic.”

“Just-” she sighs and reaches up to take it from his hand. “Make it symbolic in her recycling bin – inside the house – in an environmentally safe way. Where you won’t slice anyone’s foot open.”

JJ makes a show of throwing his hands up in the air, exasperated. “Jesus Christ, okay, stop being annoying.”

Sarah masks her smile by rolling her eyes and giving him a shove. “Come on, let’s go never let John B live it down that he’s dating the female version of you. Same genes, and all that.”

An easy smile opens wide on his face as he turns and follows Sarah Cameron, a bottle stuffed haphazardly under her t-shirt and unsteady feet as she trips briefly over the threshold into their mother’s house. JJ is sure to throw in a muttered remark about not being able to hold her grape peroxide. As his hand reaches out to steady her shoulder, he can't help but think that maybe she's right. 

Maybe Limbry is to blame for a lot of things in their lives. Maybe, because of her, neither of them would ever have a complete, whole family again; just always be stuck with the fractured remains of what she left behind. Maybe she had permanently scarred them in ways that could never really be fixed. But, maybe they could try. Together.

Maybe, for now at least, that could be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hey, Brother by Avicii (obviously).
> 
> I would just like to thank everyone (mainly the jiara jubilee gc) who has enabled me to push my Cambank Sibling Supremacy Agenda every chance I get over these last few months. S2 probably will not give me that (fingers crossed for a solid broTP) so, I just wrote it myself. Also based off of that very vague casting for "Limbry" we received a while back
> 
> MASSIVE thanks to Sarah for beta-ing this as it would have been an absolute mess without her. 
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hmspogue)  
> [jiara gc](https://hvitstark.tumblr.com/gcshenanigans)


End file.
